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TEUMAN B. RANSOM, 



COLONEL OF THE NINTH REGIMENT. 




EULOGY, 

AT NORWICH, VERMONT, 

FEBRUARY 22, 1848, 

DURING 
OF 

TRUMAN B. RANSOM, 

Colonel of tl)c ^Intlj Hegimcnt. 



By FREDERICK W. HOPKINS, Esa., 

Adjutant-General of the State. 



SeOONO EDITION. 




TROY, N. Y.: 

FROM THE PRESS OF FRESCOTT AND WILSON, CCXXV RIVER-STREET. 

1849. 



403 



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•Tt Hi 



Noi^AvicH, Fd. 24, 1848. 
Dear Sir: 

At a meeting of the Committee of Arrangements, on the occasion 
of the Funeral of the late Col. T. B. Ransom, holden on the 2'3d instant, 
it was unanimously decided to express to you their thanks for the highly 
appropriate and jiatriotic Eulogy, delivered by you at this place on the 22d 
instant: and the undersigned were appointed a committee for that purpose, 
and to request a copy of the same for pubiicaiion. 

With high esteem, we are. Sir, 

Your obedient servants, 

IRA DAVIS, 
DIXI CROSBY, 
JOHN WRIGHT. 
To Adj. Gen. F. W. Hopkins. 



Adjutant and Insp. General's Office, ) 
Rutland, Feb. 28, 1848. ) 
Gentlemen : 

To your kind and flattering request, I briefly reply : — Seldom has a 
man a right to make an apology for what he voluntary undertakes ; but it 
is sometimes urged upon him from the effect of his position. In my official 
capacity I was requested to speak of him, who, when he left us, was one 
of the first military officers of the State, and my particular friend, I ac- 
cepted the appointment, with short notice, and with an hour here and there 
snatched from a daily attendance in a court-room, during a session, and 
with scant materials, it is performed. 

No consideration, but the wishes of the relatives of the deceased, per- 
sonally expressed, would induce me thus to throw out upon the public my 
first thoughts of him whom all hearts loved, and whose loss all mourn. 

I discharged it as a duty to him and to yourselves. As such please ac- 
cept it. With considerations of highest regard, I am, gentlemen. 
Your obedient servant, 

F. W. HOPKINS. 
To Col. Ira Davis, Prof. Dixi Crosby, John Wriout, Esq. 



EULOGY. 



We are all here, the citizen and the soldier, the com- 
panion and friend, the father and the son. There is 
thouo^ht upon the brow, and sadness in the heart. 
Wherefore are we here, and why is this sadness ? 

Heard ye that bu^le note t Heard ye that gun as its 
report echoed from hill side to hill side, and died away 
in the distance ? Heard ye that shout as it arose on 
the air, rolled along these vallies, and passed on ? What 
meant that note, but as the rallying signal for impend- 
ing danger, or for the redress of wrongs unavenged ! 
W^hat meaning was conveyed by that gun, whose rap- 
idly successive reports start the senses and arouse the 
latent energies of the mind, but that the home of the 
free-born is assailed and the foot of the stranger is on 
the hearth-stone ; or, that the honor of our county is 
tarnished ! Why arose that shout 1 but to tell of vic- 
tory, and death ! 

Heard ye it not, as sitting under your own vine you 
peacefully enjoyed the blessings of a divine hand, and 
thought only of the petty trials of life, and wondered 



if the future would be as the past ? Ye thought, per- 
haps, of the vicissitudes in the life of another, but that 
to you the sun would rise on the morrow, more preg- 
nant with the pleasures of existence than its many sit- 
tings had been. Your cultivated fields, your vine-dres- 
sed gardens, told how you hugged to your hearts the 
home of your youth, the hearth-stone of your happiness 
and the companions of your toil. 

The home-bird sat upon your boughs, and the lark 
called you forth to the daily orison and the daily task. 
Nought but New England scenery surrounded your 
home, nought but domestic felicity filled your heart, 
nought but selfish enjoyment lulled the soul to quietude 
and peace. 

Ye heard it not ! Ye heard it not ! But there was 
one from your midst, to whom it conveyed a certain 
and significant import. He heard it, a^ho now lies sleej)- 
ing quietly there, with his shroud enfolded about him. 
He, who was your citizen, your friend, and your neigh- 
bor. He, who breathed with you the serene air of 
these hills, and with you enjoyed the pent up happiness 
of these vallies — surrounded with all the blessings of 
life, and bound to you by the more sacred ties of affec- 
tion and love. He heard the far off" gathering of the 
armed host, and the voice of the spirit, stirred within 
him, awoke, and broke forth into a cheerful and ready 
answer, responsive to the call. 

He looked forth around him. He perceived at a 
glance the claims of his country, of society and his 
home. Here upon his own soil, shone a sun-light, than 
which, no country or clime could boast a brighter, a 
calmer or more peaceful. He was every where at 
home — companionable with all ; in every man he found 
a friend. Yonder institution, the child of his thoughts, 



5 

his hopes, his energies, and his exertions: stretched 
forth its hands in pleading accents ibr protection to its 
patron and parent. Society claimed him, liis home, 
and his soil. Away from society, away from friends, 
away from his home, and all its endearments — from her, 
who called him husband ; from those, who, with uplifted 
hands and tearful eyes, called to him "father, father, 
leave us not," from this blessed sunshine of heaven, 
and of his prosperity and usefulness, he turned with 
anguish ; while in the far off distance, in a clime 
fraught with disease and death, and where the sky was 
clouded with the smoke of the battle-field, and where 
volley after volley added to the overhanging vapor, he 
descried through the misty chasm, surrounded with ef- 
fulgence, and alluring light, one lone star ; it was the 
star of honor, and his State's pride — the star of glory 
and renown — the star of his country's fame, vindicated 
by his own prowess and success ; his country, his own 
country, now and forever, the star of his ow7i destiny. 

Soon was heard, echoing from hill to hill, the war- 
cry, "to arms, to arms for our country." And along 
these vallies, where the foot prints of a Warner and an 
Allen have not yet passed away, was he alone to hear 
that cry ? Nay, here, and there, and there, before you, 
were those, who breathed something of the same spirit 
with hiyn who lies there, and rallied to his call. In (juick 
answer and patriotic haste were gathered the sons of 
Vermont, and in their prompt rally and zeal was exhibit- 
ed the spirit of New-England. The pulse beat quick, and 
the arm was nerved. Thus went they forth — the strong, 
the brave and the free — at their country's call, and for 
their country's honor. Thus periled life, for a name to 
live. Alas, how few there are, in the wide world 
around us, who are content to die and leave no name ! 



6 

How few, in whom it is the ultimate hope, to spring into 
being, wrestle through life, die, and be remembered no 
more ! Yet, what creatures are we of destiny! How 
little know we of the object and end of living. Here 
and there, on the grand panorama of life, birth is given 
to genius, as though specially endowed as the direct 
offspring and favorite of Heaven. It struggles up into 
existence, and all along, its pathway is marked by signs 
unerring and not to be mistaken. Upward and on- 
ward is its course, and we follow its progress with ad- 
miring gaze, while difficulty after difficulty is sur- 
mounted, until it seems just ready to burst upon the 
world in one resplendent beacon light, every ray of 
which would indicate a talent, a virtue, or an accom- 
plishment to guide us over the trackless Ocean Wave 
of life. If ever a great design and object of being, and 
a providential end of existence were apparent, they 
would seem to be indicated here. It would almost 
sometimes seem, that upon such a particular instance 
of existence, depended the progression of society. But 
suddenly, a faint whisper from the fiat of the Almighty 
is breathed, and that light is dashed out forever ; we 
know not why ; we know not wherefore. Yet life 
moves on again, as though that light had never been — 
as though there was not one star less in the galaxy 
wide spread above us. 

Occasionally, under our own observation, occurs an 
instance of our general proposition. 

Do you see that lad, with his waivjs dark hair, and 
his keen eye dancing with intelligence, truthfulness and 
mirth ; his satchel thrown over his shoulder, as he 
wends his way to his school, his mates and his lessons. 
He is descended from brave ancestors, who were all 
found aiding their country in the war of the Kevolu- 



lion ; and one of them bravely fell by the side of Mont- 
gomery in liis fatal attack of Quebec. And now at 
the age of ten years, and in this boyhood of life, has 
he lost a father, the protector of his youth, and the 
guide of his riper years* He is left penniless, and de- 
pendent upon his own exertions and his own brave 
heart. With an ambition beyond his years, a hope 
beaming up from the depths of adversity, with a manly 
courage and determination, he looks around him, ob- 
serves his bearings, and then strikes out into the cur- 
rent of life, confident that his efforts will soon land him 
on firm standing, and enviable ground. He leaves his 
home and all that boyhood cherishes ; his mates, his 
mother, and his all. Ardent in his temperament and 
his hopes, he sees only the future in its brightest perspec- 
tive. With a less determined spirit, he would have ex- 
aggerated the obstacles that surrounded him, and turned 
back disconsolate and forlorn. But his career once 
commenced— progress once made, his ambition " grows 
with what it feeds on,*' and he seeks at once to enter 
the arcana of literature, science and the arts. By me- 
chanical skill and toil, by industry, zeal and fidelity, 
relying upon his own resources, and, unaided by others, 
he commences a class of classical studies ; and by a 
manly perseverance, and a strict economy, he success- 
fully completes his academical course. The same am- 
bition and zeal, lead him to enter upon those studies^ 
embraced in a collegiate course, and especially the 
higher branches of mathematics. These he accom- 
plished, and now stands forth in society a man among 
men, and not only in literature, and the practical sci- 
ences a scholar, but in the world at large, as a young 
man of general intelligence, virtue, and Avell fitted to 
adorn society. That lad, and that young man is Ran- 
som. 



8 

Such was his proficiency, his scholarship and his 
skill, that he was selected as one of four, the most ad- 
vanced, to survey the Connecticut river, with all its 
difficulties ; and his results are not surpassed, in the 
truthfulness of their delineations and the correctness 
of their design. Possessing the energy of character and 
acquirements that he did, his talents could not long be 
concealed. We see him next a teacher of Mathematics 
and Military Science, in a High School in Connecticut. 
Soon a Principal of a Military School in New Jersey. 
Then in the same capacity in North Carolina. A Pro- 
fessor of Military Tactics and Mathematics in Missis- 
sippi. At length a Professor of Mathematics in the 
United States Navy. Thus far have we traced him ; 
and success, and the affection of all communities fol- 
lowed in his footsteps. 

We find him again among us, as the President of 
Norwich University. We all know with what zeal 
and energy he applied himself to an adequate discharge 
of the duties of this office. Here were called forth 
those powers which characterized him as as a scholar. 
Here were manifested the developments of the moral 
man— thai decision of character, uprightness of pur- 
pose, urbanity of manner, and gentlemanly deportment, 
which as a citizen and member of society opened to 
him the hearts of all. Here daily were exhibited those 
affections of the heart, that endeared him to his pupils, 
as the kind parent and guardian, and the laithful moni- 
tor and friend. Here shone too that military talent, 
which he possessed in an eminent degree. Perhaps, 
nowhere in New-England, could be found a more sys- 
tematic, correct and perfect tactician. 

The military art, to which, as making up a part of 
the character of Col. Ransom, we are called upon to 



9 

allude, is something more than what the crude notions of 
the bigoted man, the manof limited views, or the calcula- 
ting utilitarian would give it credit for being. It does 
not at all consist in the imposing display, the military 
garb, and the tasteful appointments of war. These are 
but the insignia of rank of our day, and are in some 
measure the substitutes merely of the ancient and then 
more necessary armor of defence, made useful by their 
method of warfare ; when the shock of battle and the 
clash of arms were no mere figurative expressions. It 
does not all consist in the beautiful evolutions, as 
spreading out before us the imposing array, the accu- 
rate, yet rapid movement of bodies in change of po- 
sition to meet the ever-changing scenes and circum- 
stances of the battle-field ; and the march of column 
in beautiful deployment. It is a science, to the success- 
ful study of which must be brought a taste susceptive 
of appreciating the beautiful and the grand ; a mind 
capable of possessing and valuing the higher and no- 
bler qualities of our moral nature. It embraces within 
its limits many of the most useful and practical sciences 
and unites them in one grand developement of the phys- 
ical man and the active, intelligent and discriminating 
powers of the mind. Such a science, when carried out 
by its mathematical accuracy, by its philosophical 
knowledge, by its topographical correctness, by its his- 
torical information, both physical and natural, into the 
useful and proper understanding of the resources and 
defences of a country, brings with it upon that country 
a conscious security and peace ; and as a consequence, 
the progress of agriculture, science and the arts. With 
such a country will a foreign nation, with a knowledge 
of such resources and position, raise but few difficul- 
ties, and when raised will speedily adjust them. 



liD 

As such a science, did General Ransom study it. In 
this science did he become an enviable proficient ; and 
under his instructions, discipline and skill, did it seem 
to be invested with new life and to develop new beau- 
ties. 

In 1839, he was elected by the Legislature to be 
General of Division ; and to this office he carried the 
confidence of the whole people. The militia system 
was for a time, the subject of his first thoughts, and 
his untiring exertions ; and his greatest ambition was, 
that among all the States of the Union, to Vermont 
should be given a system preeminently the best, the 
most complete, and perfect in all its parts. To this end 
were directed all the energies of his active mind, all 
the influence which he possessed. But a vitiated pub- 
lic sentiment, as faithfully expressed by its assembled 
wisdom, frustrated his designs and rendered abortive 
all his efforts. He was well aware, that to the igno- 
rance of many of its officers, and to their want of ap- 
plication to a right understanding of its duties, the re- 
sponsibilities it involved, and the instructions it im- 
posed, was attributable much of the censure and pre- 
judice, to which it had become obnoxious ; and by his 
presence, encouragement, example and thorough drills, 
he endeavored all in his power to remedy the defect. 
And there were many who ably co-operated with him. 

Of the political character and life of General Ran- 
som, was there time to do so, I could speak freely, and 
with the highest respect and honor for his conduct and 
opinions, although I did not think with him. But it is 
a characteristic of the people of Vermont, that when 
they agree to differ they well know how to respect and 
appreciate the talents of each other. Unfortunately 
for the political preferment of General Ransom, he was 



u 

in the minority in his native State. He belonged — in 
all his opinions, feelings, and associations, to that party, 
who openly and manlully proclaim themselves to be 
the Democracy in our government ; and a noble speci- 
men he was. His frequent nomination to the highest 
offices in the gift of the people, manifest a right appre- 
ciation of his talents, and does credit to the judgment 
of his party. 

In the war commenced with Mexico, it became ne- 
cessary for the general government to make a levy of 
men upon the different States of the Union ; and for 
the raising of this levy, one regiment was assigned to 
New-England, and to Vermont one company. In this 
regiment, covering so large a territory, and conse- 
quently exciting a rivalry in zeal for the service of 
their country, an office in which was sought by all 
classes among the many States, which compose and 
claim that proud name. General Ransom was honored 
with the field officer of Major ; an office which he ac- 
cepted, although far below his expectations, or his 
merits. Soon after, while the recruiting service was 
vigorously pushed by the faithful officers already ap- 
pointed, the promotion of Colonel Pierce, who had been 
appointed to its command, to the post of Brigadier 
General, made a vacancy in that command, to which 
Major Ransom was most justly and opportunely raised. 
"With the renowned Pierce for its General, and the gal- 
lant Ransom for its Colonel, who could fear for the 
character of New-England. 

In hot haste were gathered the boys of the Green 
Mountain State — in hot haste were they joined with 
New-England's sons, and in hot haste were they laun- 
ched forth upon the wide wave that bore thom from 
their country, their soil, and their home, to a foreign 



m 

clime, and a country that welcomed them not. Their 
farewells were quickly spoken, and their last words 
died upon the shore. They have gone, the father, the 
brother, the husband and the son. As those sails were 
wafted away from our sight, how many a home was 
left grieved ; how many a heart feeling its anguish ; 
how many a hearth-stone was left desolate. 

But here w^e must stop. From these homes of our 
fathers — from these mountains of contentment and 
peace — -from these wide- spread vallies, where industry 
and happiness dwell, a voice calls us to the fields of 
Contreras, Cherubusco, Molino Del Rey, and that fatal 
Chapultepec — a country scarcely revealed to us but 
through the misty medium of fable — a country Math 
which is associated the city of the Aztecs, the Temple 
of the Sun, a Cortes, a Montezuma, the pyramid and 
the ruin — a country of the Orange grove, the story and 
the song — but a country with which is now associated 
in our minds the disease of climate ; the lone, aban- 
doned sickness, with no fair hand to smoothe the brow ; 
with the appaling thought of a far off home, and friends 
away : with the war cry, the fearful struggle and the 
groans of the dying, and the graves of the dead. 

Towards his Regiment, from the time he first met 
them at Fort Adams, to the day of his death, there 
seemed to spring up an attachment, that increased with 
their intimacy, to an almost fatherly afiection ; and 
when in camp at Vera Cruz, many were its exhibitions 
in acts of the kindest attention, to their wants, their 
comforts and their feelings. Was there a soldier wrong- 
ed ; j)rompthj did he obtain for him, the peaceable and 
manly redress. Was there one whose sick bed needed 
attention and care, he personally saw that he had it. 
Was there one who did not do hi,s duty ; he instructed 



13 

his ignorance, or kindly reasoned with his inattention. 
Nor was his attention confined merely to the health 
and physical comfort of his regiment. All along were 
they reminded of the religious and moral influences, 
that surrounded them. When service upon the Sab- 
bath vv^as practicable it was strictly enjoined. All 
who survive will recollect, when, at Perote, the first 
Sabbath in August, the regiment was formed under the 
east wall of the castle, the hymns of New-England 
were first swelled out upon that mountain region. In 
a word, he seemed to have a mind for every emergen- 
cy — a heart for every duty. 

In following our friends through the land of the 
stranger, of the bold, the faithless, and the false ; through 
the way-laid mountain pass, and the secret foe of the 
chapparal, we must know something of where we are- 
We must discard from our view, the fair and open 
battle-fields of Europe, and our own land ; the beauti- 
ful array of armies, and the skill of strategy. And if 
we are selected to conduct a diversion, for the deception, 
or surprise of our enemy, it becomes us to look well 
to our footsteps. On the one side, is an almost impassa- 
ble bog, on the other a field of volcanic rocks, and la- 
va ; here, a ditch, and there, a ravine ; a narrow cause- 
way in front, the only accessible means of communi- 
cation ; an aqueduct, a bridge to pass, a mound to 
overcome, or a parapet to surmount. Many of these 
impediments were thrown into the case, in the attack 
of Contreras, in the taking of which Colonel Ransom 
was designated to the command of a brigade, composed 
of the Ninth, the Third, Twelfth, and Rifle Regiments, 
for the purpose of a diversion or an attack as the cir- 
cumstances of the case should require. It proved an 
attack, and at the appointed time he not only made the 



14 

movement to divert, and distract the enemy, but, after 
crossing a deep ravine in his front, advanced and pour- 
ed into the works and upon the fugitives many volleys, 
from his destructive musketry. This was but one in 
the series of his gallant achievements. From this fort* 
into which he boldly led his command, without rest, 
without food, he proceeded on to flank the batteries of 
Cherubusco. The capture of Cherubusco, a strongly 
fortified convent, and a strong field work, was the re- 
sult of the third signal triumph of the day. The citadel 
of the enemy followed in the conquest of our arms. 
At Molino Del Rey, it became the sad duty of Col. Ran- 
som to see the wounded and dead collected and safely 
conveyed from the battle-field. This duty was most 
faithfully and nobly done, while a large force of Mex- 
ican Lancers, the advance guard of the enemy, were 
drawn up within fifty yards of the spot ; and while too 
within point blank shot, and almost directly under the 
castle of Chapultepec. Nor was he content merely to 
command on this melancholy occasion ; corpse after 
corpse did he take in las oion arms and convey them 
fiway to the ambulances, as if each one was the re- 
mains of a brother. Did ever commander do this ! — If 
■SO, tell me where I may find it. 

And now, Chapultepec lies before us — a strongly for- 
tified post, high up on an abrupt and steep hill, and 
which commanded the city of Mexico, and its passes. 
•''It must be taken," says the Commander-in-Chief 
" It shall be taken," echoed the Ninth, and to General 
Pierce's brigade was assigned the advance, and to the 
Ninth, the coveted privilege of leading in the attack. 
On this occasion, fired with gratitude and zeal, the ar- 
dent Ransom grasped the hand of his brave General, 
and uttered the prophetic words, " I pledge my word to 
you, to lead my regiment into that castle or die. 



16 

Previous to the battle, do our eyes follow him as he 
c:oes the round of the camp, visits liis brave men and 
compatriots in arms, and mingles his deep, kind voice 
with theirs in encouragement, zeal and hope. 

He assembles his officers about him, and with a flash- 
ing eye and a flushed cheek, he looks upon them with 
confidence, while he points them to their far off Green 
Mountain State, whose name is fast upon the annals 
of her country, whose flag has never been tarnished, 
and whose credit they are now to sustain. He reminds 
them of their State's pride and her honored dead, 
whose names are cherished by her sons, and whose 
dust is bosomed in her soil. 

It is often an incident in war, that if a leader, in 
whose valor, wisdom, and foresight, great confidence is 
placed, is picked off and killed, sudden confusion fol- 
lows, want of concert of action, retreat, the rally is not 
heeded, and defeat ensues. Colonel Ransom was there- 
fore strongly urged — that if he could not be dissuaded 
from leading, surely to throw off* the badges of his of- 
fice, and not permit himself to be a mark for the ene- 
my. But he chose to advance as he was, and he es- 
teemed it the proudest moment of his life to lead the 
brave, the New-England Regiment. 

On the morning of the 13th, was his Regiment drawn 
up in precise and proud disposition. And as he passed 
along the flanks of its column, how familiarly and 
kindly does he notice by name every one known to him. 
And even in the excitement of the onset, how does his 
quick eye, detect and approvingly encourage the con- 
duct of his known and tried friends. He placed him- 
self at their head ; he glanced his proud eye once on 
those upon whom he relied, and then turned with cheer- 
ing hope upon the flag, that proudly waved above him. 



16 

The signal was given, " Forward, the Ninth !" Then 
waiving his sword, in encouragement to the advance — 
he fell and died. A well aimed Escopette ball entered 
his brain, and ended his life without a struggle or a 
groan. 

Thus fell a brave and an accomplished man. To 
the Army he was an acquisition, notwithstanding their 
prejudice to the new levies, as all that came under his 
command, most effectually ascertained. To the State 
he was a loss, deeply to be deplored, for his talents, his 
acquirements, and his devotion. Among the militia, 
who is there that will espouse their interests with 
such heart and zeal ? In society who will so deeply 
feel his absence as the citizen, and the neighbor ? And 
in the home of the deceased, who can depict the lone 
absence of the husband, and the kind counsels of the 
father 1 

The green and joyous spirit of youth, fledged and 
bosomed among our hills, and pinioned upon the in- 
spiration of our mountain home, perceives no limit to 
its vision— no boundary to its aspirations. It struggles 
up and away through the vicissitudes of life, proud of 
its origin and its freedom. It inspires its own intelligence 
wherever it appears, and breathes a consciousness of 
power unfettered as its home — a power nurtured in the 
valley and on the cliff — amidst the humility and the 
grandeur of nature in close proximity ; it upbears a 
mind commensurate to the vastness of thought and the 
freedom of mental action. With all its intelligence — 
with all its conscious power, it is doomed to mingle 
with the spirits of earth, where man meets man, and 
mind clashes with mind. No land, whose soil is not 
pressed by its footsteps ; no sea, that bears it not upon 
her waters. Who can mark out its flight 1 Who can 
predict its destiny 1 



17 

III the fortunes of one, blending the strong power of 
intellect, the keenest susceptibility, and the most vivid 
imagination, with all the incongruities of physical in- 
aptitude, it may struggle on into life, exciting no voice 
of sympathy — no thought of fraternity. With the 
breath of the cold world blanching its cheek, and icing 
its life-blood, and no hope lighting its eye, but the hope 
of futurity. It moves along noiseless amidst the clam- 
our of ambition, pride and prosperity around it — alone 
amid the wilderness of humanity ; its trials, its sor- 
rows and its thoughts are its own. No story tells its 
struggles — no poem measures out a thought of its being. 
Disheartened, wearied and dying, it returns again to 
our hills, our homes and our hearts. We seek to tin ;e 
again the blanched cheek ; again the expiring hope is 
kindled by our prayer ; again it lingers for a time 
among us, until, while nestling amidst its youthful as- 
sociations and thoughts of home, it wings its way to a 
better and a more congenial clime. 

It is again manifested in the life of another — the 
lamented and melancho y one before us. One in 
whose birth and progress, as in those of many others, 
the equality of mental endowments is proved a fiction, 
and its origin a mistaken philosophy, discouraging as 
its falsity may be to the many, and full of hope to the 
few. Born in poverty and friendless, like thousands 
around us ; — reared by no fatherly hand, and watched 
over by no paternal solicitude ; — the difficulties of sud- 
den youthful independence overcome, and the obstacles 
that circumstances threw around him surmounted, the 
final success in the attainment of education and places 
of distinction and trust, develop an energy of charac- 
ter, a concentration of purpose and powers of mind of 
no ordinary worth. With a form stamped with nature's 
3 



18 

nobility, and a manner to enforce his personal accom- 
plishments — a manly bearing and a manly soul ; a mind 
varied in its acquirements, acute, observant of men and 
the world they live in, active and energetic, affable and 
courteous, yet appreciating himself, and ambitious of the 
world's thought, and mindful of the God who made him 
as he was, he seemed a combination of physical and 
mental worth, 

" To give the world assurance of a man." 

Thus, and such as he was, goes he forth and away 
from these peaceful scenes, and strikes out for himself 
the path of glory and renown. He leaves sad, but 
trustful hearts behind him — yet the eye of the adven- 
turer kindles as he leaves his native shores in the dis- 
tance, and the heart beats, and the cheek is flushed' 
with hope for the laurel that is to crown his brow, and 
the nation's gratitude that is to flood his heart. Away 
from his home — away from its endearments, its friends 
and all that the heart loves to look upon, he is upheld 
by his high purpose, he cherishes a consciousness o^ 
mental power, and a manly prowess adequate to the 
cause he has espoused. With all these thoughts and 
hopes and fears crowding around the heart, proudly 
and onwardly he careers. But soon the ideal no long- 
er, but the reality appears in the perspective ; and to 
imagination no longer does fancy furnish the aliment- 
The field is before him — a field on which is to lie his 
buried hopes, or to be gained his toon name. The flag 
of his triumph waives above him. His progress is only 
onward, and God his shield, and his success is complete. 



But, let the smoke of the battle field shut out from 
our view the struggle of mind with the destiny of man ! 



19 

where the spirit is struck down in its pride of strength, 
although fame he won. Alas, what to us is life but the 
mirror of our own being ! Well is it for us that the 
hope of earth is but the shadow of brighter and more 
permanent aspirations ! Well is it for us that the 
spirit of mind finds no scope, no resting place but in a 
boundless hereafter ! Well is it for us that our sadness 
and our sorrows are but our wings to the only " field of 
glory" commensurate to the soul's sublime and perfect 
action. 

The wave of life has borne him back again upon 
our shore — a wreck upon the strand — and sorrow is 
written upon the valley and the hill, upon the home 
and the heart. 

AVe are all here — and the dead too, is loith us. There- 
fore are we here ! TJierefore is sadness upon our 
hearts ! He was there in his duty. He is here before 
you, to remind you of the loss of your country, of tal- 
ents extinguished, and of his virtues only remaining. 

Lay him gently down in his quiet resting place ; raise 
over him the monument of your affections, let the tear 
be shed over his grave, and let the successive volley 
speak out our appreciation of his virtues, his valor and 
his renown. 

The breeze of the Norther still sweeps o'er the plain, 
And the night-bird still shrieks o'er the dust of the slain, 
But time's whelming tide, like the deep sea wave. 
Shall not raze from mem'ry the Vermonter's grave. 
O'er mountain and vale, the moon-beams still play. 
And the sun still sheds its ephemeral ray. 
But, brighter, far brighter the star of the brave, 
As its mild lustre beams on a Ransom's grave. 



46 



















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